


Northern Lights

by lyryk (s_k)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-04
Updated: 2013-01-04
Packaged: 2017-11-23 14:44:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/623318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/s_k/pseuds/lyryk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s always like this with Dean: pushing and shoving and taking and giving until they’re both exhausted and sated and driven apart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Northern Lights

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [](http://applegeuse.livejournal.com/profile)[**applegeuse**](http://applegeuse.livejournal.com/) for the beta. ♥ Happy 2013, [](http://verucasalt123.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://verucasalt123.livejournal.com/)**verucasalt123**! I really liked writing this for you and I hope you have a wonderful year ahead. ♥

 

 

It’s always like this with Dean: pushing and shoving and taking and giving until they’re both exhausted and sated and driven apart. Something has to give and it’s usually one of them. Sam tends to lick his wounds for a lot longer than Dean does, worrying at the splinters of anger or jealousy or lust that Dean has driven into his skin until he’s red-raw and longing for Dean again, although he isn’t quite sure if he wants to fuck Dean or break his nose.

He’s back from meeting Amelia and their fight has lasted across four states and counting. There’s been no yelling or hitting this time, just stone-cold silence in the car as Dean drives and the landscape rushes past Sam’s window in a nauseating blur. He hasn’t eaten in eight hours—Dean had stopped a while ago at a joint that sold nothing but greasy burgers that made Sam’s stomach turn just at the sight of them—but he isn’t going to ask Dean to stop. He turns his forehead to the window and lets the sun warm his headache into something duller, push the pain further under his skin like it belongs there.

It’s six-ish in the evening on New Year’s Eve, and Sam doesn’t even know which state they’re driving through right now. It’s getting a little colder, the sun disappearing below the horizon until the sky’s a glowing sort of pink, and there are sheets of white along either side of the highway, obscuring the ground.

Sam doesn’t realize he’s fallen asleep until Dean’s hand on his knee wakes him.

‘Sam. Sammy. Wake up, c’mon, you gotta see this.’

Sam opens his eyes to Dean’s grinning face lit by the silver blur of his phone. He’s got that stupid weather app open again but the screen’s too far away for Sam to see what’s on it.

‘Out there,’ Dean says, and cuffs Sam lightly on the chin, turning his face toward the windshield.

They’re on top of a hill and there’s a colorful storm lighting up the sky, impressionistic and unreal, strong blue-greens turning into bright red like a curtain being whipped across the sky by an invisible wind. ‘Dean, what the—where the hell _are_ we?’

‘Michigan.’

‘Michigan? That’s the Aurora Borealis!’

‘Looks like my phone’s smarter than you, geek boy.’

‘Whatever,’ Sam says, not even listening anymore. He opens the door and half-falls out, his eyes on the sky. The storm whips his hair around his face and crackles in his hair and he lets out a whoop. ‘Dean, it’s the freakin’ Northern Lights!’

Dean gets out of the car, his laugh snatched away by the wind, but not before Sam hears it. ‘Better than Christmas lights, huh?’ he says, tossing a jacket around Sam’s shoulders.

Sam gathers the jacket around himself and they settle on the hood. It’s too cold for beer but Dean pushes a bottle into Sam’s hand anyway, the cap already popped open.

‘Way better than Christmas lights,’ Sam says after a while, when he’s drained the last of his beer and shoved the bottle into a pocket of the jacket. The storm’s spent itself now, the colors no more than swirling wisps of light against the sky. The wind’s like ice, numbing his face, but Dean’s hand is on his knee again and Sam isn’t particularly inclined to move just yet.

‘Told you it’d be awesome,’ Dean says, like they’d planned this all along. It reminds Sam of the time Dean had said the same thing after they’d visited the Botanical Garden in Cleveland during Dean’s last year at school. Dean had bitched the whole way and made inappropriate horticultural jokes, but one look at the glee on Sam’s face when they arrived had shut him up. He’d still teased Sam mercilessly about being turned on by plants, but Sam had learned then that Dean would suffer through a fuckload of boredom if it meant making Sam happy.

Sam turns his head, the glass of the windshield cold against his ear. Dean doesn’t look bored now. He’s got his fingers laced behind his head and he’s gazing up at the sky like he’s counting the stars, humming a vague non-tune under his breath.

‘Hey Dean?’ Sam says, cupping Dean’s kneecap with his palm, running his thumb over the seam of Dean’s jeans.

‘Yeah, Sammy.’ Dean drops one hand into his lap, turning his head too so that they’re facing each other.

Sam lifts his head and leans in, brushing his cold-numbed lips against Dean’s. Dean’s still as a statue for a moment and Sam’s afraid he’s horribly misread the situation, but then Dean’s fingers twine in Sam’s hair and his tongue is enveloped in warmth and wetness as Dean sucks it into his mouth. Sam makes a small happy sound as Dean’s other hand slips into his waistband and tugs him closer.

They’ve done this so many times, making out on the hood of the Impala with nothing but wilderness around them, that it shouldn’t taste new, shouldn’t be exciting anymore, but it is. It tastes like beer and Dean and forgiveness and want and Sam can’t get enough of it. He climbs over Dean and holds him down and covers Dean’s ears with his palms and thumbs his temples, his nose squished up against Dean’s until Dean tilts his head and they find a better angle.

‘Fuck, yeah,’ Dean says into his mouth as they pause for breath, his fingers still wound tight in Sam’s hair.

‘You fucking jerk.’ Sam bites at Dean’s lower lip, worrying at the soft flesh before letting it go. ‘Thought you’d never let me have this again.’

‘All you had to do was ask, Sammy.’

‘Yeah?’ Sam cups Dean’s shoulders and holds him against the windshield, nosing along Dean’s jaw line and down below his ear where he’s warm and a little sweaty and smells sort of secret, like something only Sam has access to. ‘When was I supposed to ask?’ He bites a mark into the soft skin beneath Dean’s ear. ‘When you were fucking around with your vampire buddy behind my back?’

‘Dude, I wasn’t fucking around with him,’ Dean protests with a half-hearted wriggle, but he’s arching up beneath Sam, offering himself up to whatever Sam wants to do.

Sam pushes down hard with his hands, pinning Dean in place. ‘Don’t, Dean. Don’t you fucking mess with me.’

‘I wouldn’t.’ Dean pushes Sam’s hair back from his face, grips the crown of Sam’s head. ‘Wouldn’t do that to you, Sammy.’

‘Even if you did.’ Sam finds Dean’s mouth again, reassuring himself that Dean’s not going anywhere. ‘Even if you did, you’re not going to again. I’m going to fucking chop his fucking head off the next time I see him.’

‘Yeah?’ Dean slides his hands down Sam’s back and grips his ass, pressing up against him. ‘You jealous, Sammy?’

‘Fuck you,’ Sam says mildly, too far gone with the taste of Dean’s mouth to care about absent vampires anymore.

‘After we get out of the cold, maybe,’ Dean says with a grin, giving Sam a squeeze before pushing him away. ‘Get off me before you squash me, Gigantor.’

‘Aww, and I thought we were just starting to have fun.’ Sam slides off the hood and drags Dean with him, spinning him around and pressing him up against the side of the car.

‘Seriously, man. I can’t feel my nose.’

‘Yeah, okay.’ Sam presses his lips to Dean’s. ‘Happy new year, Dean.’

‘Happy new year, Sammy.’ Dean slings an arm over Sam's shoulders. ‘C’mon, I think baby needs refueling.’

 

~end

 


End file.
